Page 62 of Outcast

Outside, Matías was already gone. Thank fuck. The last thing we needed was for him to try and stick his nose in our business. He would too. If he saw us leave in a rush, he'd follow.

I scooted Rita to the side and locked her door, then led her down the path to my bike.

"Here, put this on." I handed her my helmet. It would be a little big but it would work. I'd already ordered her a helmet, it just hadn't come in yet.

"It's yours."

"Baby," I said, sliding it onto her hands then cupping the sides of her neck. "You're more important to me than this helmet, this bike, or even my own self. Wear it."

Then we were off. She molded herself to my back, and if it wasn't for the looming dread, not knowing what was going to happen next, I'd have savored our first ride.

We arrived at the compound all too soon and inside, there was already a good portion of the chairs taken up. More guys trickled in as some of our club girls brought water, more chairs, then scurried back to the kitchen.

Rita took her hand from mine as she pulled back her shoulders and held her head high. "What happened?" she asked as she strode toward the table on the platform.Whatever she was feeling at her house and on the way here, she masked it.

As fucked up as it was, my cock twitched.

Then I remembered why we were here.

Joel stood in front of the table as his gaze tracked every person who entered the room. Almost like he was counting them. Hell, maybe he was.

There was a somber mood in the air that seemed to be boiling just under the surface. We needed retribution, and each man here wanted to be the one to deliver it.

"Tiago was dropped at our gates thirty minutes ago. No one saw who did it and it was just outside of the cameras." Joel crossed his arms and stared at the floor.

"We know who it was!" Due stood up. He was usually pretty level, but not today. His face was mottled red and his fists were clenched tight.

"We can't let this stand," Roddy, a ten year member shouted from the seats. He was a lunatic on the best days.

"You're right. We can't." Joel nodded. "We need a plan of attack. The Dirty Dogs are not to be fucked with."

"Wait." Rita walked next to Joel, facing the men. "We can't just go half-cocked. We don't even know for sure that it was them."

"Don't we?" Joel returned, a hint of a snide tone lacing his words. I glared at him for his disrespect but he wouldn’t look at me.

"Rita, it was the new club," Ricco said softly from his seat. His face was drawn tight, and his shoulders bunched up. "Shit, we have a club after us and we don't even know their name." He looked at the rest of us. "Do they have a club name?"

I shook my head. They hadn't introduced themselves with a club name. Only Matthews. No one else knew either.

"I need five volunteers." Joel glanced around the room. Fifteen men instantly lifted their hands.

"You can't do this! Not yet!" Rita raised her voice, panic rising.

"Why not, Rita?" Joel was starting to lose his patience. "Tiago is currently on the back table, beaten black and blue. He's almost unrecognizable if not for his tattoos. He was murdered. And we know who did it. We have to strike back fast before they really do come for our asses."

"This would be a suicide mission. I'm not saying we shouldn't retaliate, just that we need to wait. We need more information." Her voice started to shake as her wide-eyed gaze moved from one volunteer to the next.

"Who else would it be, Rita?" Ricco asked, trying to force her to back down. "Carnage Industries?"

"No! Of course not–"

"The Movement?" He pushed.

"You know they don't give a fuck about us," she shot back. But she barely finished her sentence before Joel talked over her next.

"If we don't hit them now, we could lose more men. They could pick us off one by one. Do you realize that?"

"Stop fucking trying to patronize me!" She raised up as high as she could on her toes, getting right in Joel's face.

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